


so life has blessed you with a gift, boy

by inquisitioned



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Sterek if you squint, derek you sure do have a type though, hhh this one was really hard??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitioned/pseuds/inquisitioned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>that you've gone and thrown away."</p><p>He’s somehow become the world’s punching bag, and if anyone can handle it, it’s Derek Hale, but it’s just another stack to add to the weight on his shoulders, and he’s fighting it all falling on him all at once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so life has blessed you with a gift, boy

"Is it true?" 

 

It’s early on a Saturday morning when Derek gets a visitor at the loft. It’s not like he’s asleep—kept awake by old memories, if not by the way Peter looked at him like he was a thing of pity when he came back from the distillery. The story had to have come out to someone, and Derek can’t even bring himself to be angry; not even when it’s Stiles who comes to his door before the sun’s fully up. He’s wearing track pants and a t-shirt and is drenched in sweat, like he’d run all the way here—absently, Derek recalls an overheard conversation about going for runs in the morning, and can’t imagine how much energy this kid must have without that—and he’s just staring at Derek with those huge brown eyes, determination in them, like he’d been considering coming over here to ask that the whole time. 

It twists something old and familiar in his chest, and he lets out a deep sigh, turning out of the way to let Stiles come in. He does immediately, stumbling into the room with the grace of a newborn gazelle, as usual, and folds his arms as he leans across the table where the maps of the vault still are. Derek’s tired, down to his bones; even just looking at Stiles is making him want to sleep, but he steps across the loft now, where the floorboards are warped from the day with Boyd, washing away the blood from when Kali stabbed him in his own apartment. He’s somehow become the world’s punching bag, and if anyone can handle it, it’s Derek Hale, but it’s just another stack to add to the weight on his shoulders, and he’s fighting it all falling on him all at once. 

And maybe it’s going to help him to say something—Derek doesn’t open to anyone, doesn’t trust anyone, hasn’t since he had his heart burned out of his chest one too many times, but he looks at Stiles, the little shit tagalong he got stuck with when he’d tried to take Scott under his wing, and opens his mouth to talk. “Yes."

 

It’s hours later when they’ve finished talking—when he’s laid the story of Paige and Kate out on the table, vaguely thought about Jennifer (she’s different, he wants to say, he’s sure, but there’s something deep in his gut that’s saying something’s not right), that Stiles cracks some sort of a joke and Derek gives him a push, light, but enough to send him windmilling across the apartment anyway. Stiles’ mouth turns up in a grin, and it’s not “I can’t believe you’d do that to an innocent" or, “how could you be so stupid". Instead, he laughs, bright and warm and effusive as always, brushes himself off from where he’d fallen on the floor, and says, tone joking, “I hate you."

 

It makes him startle so hard he has to stop and blink owlishly. He can see her if he looks hard enough—the freckles, the dark hair, the sarcasm, the goddamn bambi eyes—and Derek’s mouth softens from it’s usual scowl, just a little, and he offers his hand to help him up. “No…no you don’t."


End file.
